


Tell Me a Story

by Serpent_Tailed_Angel



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Companions, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Schizophrenia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpent_Tailed_Angel/pseuds/Serpent_Tailed_Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you're hearing voices, then focus on mine until the others go away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me a Story

**Author's Note:**

> Because something like this sounded too perfect, and I know it won't happen in the manga.

A scream woke Sting up. He leapt out of bad and immediately stumbled over an unpacked box. Landing on his shoulder, he grunted and began to feel his way around the unfamiliar room. Groping hands alerted him to any other obstacles he might crash into as he crawled across the floor, eventually coming across the light switch. His lamp came on slowly, dim at first. Rogue had been the one to think it would be nice to get a lamp like that.

"So it doesn't hurt your eyes at night."

Sting wasn't the type who regularly woke in the middle of the night. After letting his friend coax him into it, he'd regretted the purchase every time he came home after an evening out and had to use his own magic to keep the room bright until the damn lamp was working to his satisfaction. Now that he'd moved in with Rogue, he had to admit that it was nice to have a lamp that didn't instantly light his room like a football field. He took a moment to let his eyes ease into seeing the brightened room. They'd thank him for the help in a few minutes.

"Rogue?" He called out. No response.

The neighbors had come over to complain the day before, harassing Sting when he'd opened the door. They'd only taken a moment to convince themselves they'd mixed up which twin slayer they lived next to before shouting at him for waking their baby up at all hours of the night. Sting had yelled back at them. Of course it woke up at all hours. It was a baby. And he wasn't even the one who kept panicking. They thought they had it bad? They weren't the ones who had to stop the screams.

"Stop!" Rogue shouted. If he'd been shouting at Sting, the blond wouldn't have minded so much. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. One in the morning. "Stop it! Leave me alone!"

He was going to be dealing with the neighbors again. Maybe he could pretend he was too busy unpacking to hear them knock on the door. His bookshelf was still smack in the middle of the room, waiting for him to decide which wall to set it up against.

In the light, Sting could easily maneuver around the unfamiliar room. He slipped out the door and down the hall, keeping his footsteps heavy so Rogue would know he was coming. Frosch and Lector sat outside his partner's door. The frog looked helpless, completely unsure of what to do. Rogue had smacked her while having an a attack two days ago, and broken down upon coming to his senses and seeing what he'd done. Sting had forbade her from trying to help again. Lector had never tried in the first place. He looked unsure if he should feel curious or guilty.

"When did it start?" Sting asked.

"Rogue was mumbling for a long time first," the frog whispered. "Fro hoped he would fall asleep, but then he screamed and Fro had to run away."

Sting nodded. It hurt Frosch to listen to her dearest friend lose his mind and do nothing to help him find it again, but there was no helping it. Rogue was dangerous, and letting him prove it to himself would only make things worse. Sting could take the blows and cover his bruises. Frosch couldn't, so she lacked too important a skill for the job.

And he couldn't put his job off any longer. Stealing himself, Sting opened Rogue's door and stepped into his room. It was lit like a God dammed football field. The lamp Rogue had liked so much that started off dim was in the trash. It had been since two weeks ago when the attacks had started and Rogue had tried to cure them by installing a light in as many places as he could. Even with his eyes adjusted from his own lamp, Sting squinted.

"Stop. Go away."

"Rogue?" Sting asked, stepping slowly towards his friend.

Rogue was sitting up, but curled into a fetal position all the same, sheets spread haphazardly around his bed. If he noticed Sting, he said nothing.

"Rogue."

He whimpered, tossing his hands over his ears and frantically shaking his head. "No!"

"Rogue!" Sting yelled. He grabbed Rogue's arm and yanked it back. "Rogue, look at me!"

Rogue's head snapped up, eyes widening as they locked on Sting, then shutting as he managed to register what he saw. "You're alright…"

"I'm fine," Sting assured him.

"You should leave. I'm not safe."

Ignoring Rogue's protests—along with every manly bone in his body—Sting pulled the brunet into his arms, wrapping them protectively around the boy. "Like hell."

"Please, Sting. I…" He stiffened, then twisted around in Sting's grasp. "Quiet!" he roared, glaring with all his might at… at what?

Sting grabbed the back of Rogue's head and turned him back around, forcing his friend's face into his chest. He held Rogue there, taking deep breaths and hoping that Rogue would follow his example. Rogue shut his eyes again, focusing on the rise and fall of Sting's chest and trying his best to imitate it. His own shaky breath began to steady.

_It would be so easy to kill him now, wouldn't it?_

His breathing picked back up. Rogue turned his head as much as Sting would allow and began to search the room again.

"Is it the voice again?" Sting asked.

"It won't stop," Rogue told him. "It's following me. Sting, please, if you aren't going to leave—"

"You can't kill a shadow, Rogue," Sting teased. He was beginning to get tired of telling Rouge that, but the boy kept asking. "And you've got more than enough light in here. I wouldn't make any difference."

His voice held the patience of someone talking to a mental patient. That's what they all thought he was. Crazy. Rogue blinked rapidly, but wasn't able to stop tears from coming. It helped, he told himself. It helped. Having Sting helped. Someday he would prove his shadow was talking to him, but until then the reason that Sting came to soothe him didn't matter. It helped and it didn't matter if Sting was staying over to make sure he took a drug for managing schizophrenia.

 _Of course it matters,_ the damn shadow whispered. How did it manage in such a bright place? _You can't stand him pitying you. His guard is down._

"Say something," Rogue told Sting. "A story. Something that happened in town today."

Sting nodded. He stroked Rogue's hair as he spoke, recounting a run in with Orga when he was buying groceries, and how the man had overreacted to hearing Sting had moved in to try and draw attention away from how much bird seed he was buying. Rogue's laughter was forced as Sting explained how he'd just had to follow Orga to see what it was for. By the time he got to the discovery, Sting had been drowning out the shadow's taunts long enough that Rogue could convince himself he was amused.

"Another," Rogue said.

"It's one thirty," Sting protested. "We have to work tomorrow. If you want to go off active duty…"

Rogue shook his head. He didn't need a break from work. He wasn't sick. He was under attack, and right then Sting was his only line of defense. "Keep telling me stories. Please. Until I fall asleep."

Sting smiled like he would for anyone he only meant to pacify and kept talking, telling a story of a time he went to buy groceries and nothing interesting happened and watching Rogue's eyelids become heavy as he forced himself to listen to the boring story. When Sting stopped halfway through and tried to lie Rogue back down, Rogue clutched Sting's arm and pulled him down to.

"Don't go, alright?" Rogue murmured. "Don't die."

It seemed so perfectly strange that Sting had no good response. He just kept smiling and telling his story. Rogue watched him until he couldn't keep his eye open anymore. Sting didn't get it. He didn't understand the problem. He didn't get why Rogue kept having nightmares of everyone dying. He didn't get why Rogue was the one killing in those nightmares. He didn't know he was in danger. He didn't know Rogue was the danger. It wasn't alright, but it was bearable. As terrified as he was that the shadow would make him kill Sting, he knew he wouldn't last a day without his friend there.


End file.
